Chapter 3
Ezekiel
Death paid very modestly in Magnolia Graves.
It paid better than honestly ever could.
Widows, daughters and even grandchildren cried while half the town would gather under large black umbrellas and cried, but I didn't. I never did because it wasn’t in me to do so.
That weakened part of me died a long time ago.
I stood under the awning of Dubois Funeral Home with one hand behind my back as I watched all of the town’s mourners gather to pay their last respects to one of the town’s most respected people.
The funeral service had already taken place back at the church, and now this gathering was in preparation to see him off to his final resting place.
Senator Theodore Whitmore was seventy-one at the time of his death and had served three long terms in office.
During that time, he went through two failed marriages and one heart attack.
He was the kind of man that people called honorable after he died yet corrupted while he was alive.
During his tenure, Senator Whitmore owed my family immensely and knew things that needed to die with him as he was one of the people that attended Isaiah Sinclair’s funeral services.
The rain continued to fall steadily, tapping against umbrellas and polished black vehicles as the funeral procession stretched halfway around the building.
Pretty much everyone from the town was in attendance.
Some people drove while others walked yet not even the weather steered them away.
There were judges, politicians, lawyers, business owners, pastors, literally just about everyone who mattered in Magnolia Graves was here, including my entire family which included the Dubois and my mother’s maiden side of the family, the Baptistes.
Death always had this way of bringing power into the same room and it was that very power that interested me way more than grief.
"Mr. Dubois." A funeral attendant approached as I slowly glanced at him.
"Everything ready?" I piqued.
"Should be far as I know." The attendant swallowed hard.
"Good."
The conversation was short, I smirked as he scurried away, because when it came to interacting with me, people always kept it short and removed themselves quickly from my presence.
My attention shifted toward the street, Magnolia Way as a black Infiniti SUV slowly crawled through the rain then came to a complete stop.
The SUV was one that I hadn’t seen before and without having to question who the vehicle belonged to; I already knew who it was before I even got a good glimpse of the driver.
A little over three hours earlier I got confirmation from Hartsfield-Jackson and about forty minutes ago another one came in by way of Dogwood Road. Fifteen minutes later, which was the last one, came in from downtown right before the SUV made its appearance in front of me.
The calls were expected but I had already known, before any of them came through, that the Sinclair girl was finally here.
I watched her intently as she surveyed everything before our eyes finally locked…
Noa Sinclair. Over twenty years collapsed into one single breath as I studied her face before she noticed mine.
To me, she looked nothing like her parents but at the same time she was a perfect mix of them.
Over the years I’d studied pictures of her and both of her parents.
There weren’t many pictures of her dad as there were of her mom and when he was alive, I was too young to remember him.
Thankfully I had pictures and from what I saw she had her dad, Isaiah’s eyes, and her mom Celeste’s stubbornness and tenacity that I could see even from a distance and were confirmed from the tabs I’d kept on her throughout the years.
As she stared out in my direction I could smell her curiousness, how cautious she was completely unaware of what she'd just driven into. I should’ve looked away and not locked eyes with her, but I couldn’t keep myself from studying her.
It felt different seeing her in real time versus photos…
the way she was gripped the steering wheel, how she held her camera steadily in her hand and the way her gaze lingered.
Knowing what I knew about her family and as well as her I knew she had every intention on peeling away at every layer of Magnolia Graves until she found the truth of her roots that were buried six feet deep.
It was the reason she was here, and being true to her roots was a dangerous habit that she had inherited honestly.
As my phone vibrated in my pocket, just above a whisper I lowly said, “answer” so that my earbuds would connect without having to take my phone out to manually connect the call. I already knew who it was so there was no need to.
"She's here." My mother quickly blurted. No hello or how are you, just straight to business in true mother fashion. It was the Dubois way.
"I know."
The silence that followed between us was absolutely deliberate. Then after a long sigh she stated, "Dessa Mae saw her downtown."
"What doesn’t Dessa Mae see." I rhetorically spat then slightly smiled.
Dessa Mae was the last standing Vale family member who was the oldest person in the town, who knew and saw it all.
"That’s very unfortunate." My mother rebutted as the rain started to pound against the ground harder.
During over conversation I watched as Noa sat parked across the street. She was still observing, and unaware that she was being observed right back.
"Does father know?"
Before my mother responded there was a slight pause. "Of course he knows."
I flexed my jaw because that wasn’t a surprise.
Nothing happened in Magnolia Graves without the infamous August Dubois knowing.
The only difference that happened over time was that I tended to find out things first instead of second like it used to be.
He was the only person that I knew that treated information like currency.
Over the years I watched him strategically collect it to the point where he hoarded it then in true Dubois fashion, he spent it very wisely.
"And Bishop?"
Again, there was another pause, a longer one this time before she responded, “His ass knows too."
That answer settled deep and heavily in my chest, and it wasn’t because I was surprised but more so because I knew that Bishop followed third in line behind me and my father with information gathering.
Bishop always knew, what was concerning and the problem was what he planned on doing with what he knew.
"What’s the plan?" My mother asked.
“I proceed as I always do." I smirked.
“Specifics, Ezekiel.”
“Nothing for now.”
"You really expect me to believe that?" she softly laughed but not because she thought anything was funny. She laughed because she didn’t believe me.
If I yelled it off the mountain top that I planned on waiting before making a move, there would be no one in the town that would believe that.
"I would hope not, mother."
"Now that’s an honest answer. So, tell me, what’s next?"
“Just watch.”
My eyes were fixated on Noa as she began to drive off and all I could think was that I’d spent over a decade making sure that she survived for this very moment to happen.
The heavy downpour covered her vehicle like a blanket until it was nothing more than just a shadow and taillights in the distance.
"All I ask is that you be very careful, son. And remember family first…always."
I turned away for the first time in what felt like forever and looked toward the cemetery beyond Saint Mercy's steeple and toward the town that had spent so many decades protecting secrets before heading inside and making my way to my office.
"I'm always careful." I smirked just as I closed my office door.
"And that's not what worries me most."
Before I could sit at my desk, we were cut off by my office door opening with a loud click behind me.
I knew my mother heard it too because she stopped talking. I could feel her listening inventively through the phone line from how hard she was breathing.
"Let me guess, Solomon?"
"Unfortunately. Who else would it be." I rebutted as she let out a long sigh.
"We’ll finish this conversation later." She abruptly said then hung up.
The moment the call ended, Solomon stepped inside of my office without an invite, sporting a tailored Brioni black suit, solid black tie with a Swiss made Bvlgari Octo adorning his wrist brandishing a smile that made people check their wallets and their temperature from his presence.
I continued over to my desk and sat down as my older brother stood facing me on the other side of my desk.
At first, neither one of us spoke and from the look on his face, and before he opened his mouth to speak, I already knew why he was standing there while the funeral continued, along with the rain and the rest of Magnolia Graves.
"You saw her." He rhetorically stated, not questioned.
"Half the town did."
"How does it feel…since you're the one that's been waiting so long for this?"
And there it was. That thing that no one ever directly spoke on, yet everybody in the town knew about the Sinclair girl.
"Your point, Solomon?"
"There he is." He smiled, “I can see it all in your eyes.” Solomon leaned forward placing both of his palms against my desk. "You’ve waited over twenty years. What’s the plan? What you doing next baby bro?"
"Nothing."
"Huh?! I expected you to be more excited."
It was hard fighting the temptation to put my fist through his jaw, but I refused to give in.
Solomon enjoyed provoking the shit out of people, me being at the top of his list. He genuinely loved getting a rise out of me whenever he could because it brought him immense joy which was why I stopped long ago fueling that side of his ego.
Being the oldest he felt that he was next in line to be our family’s protégé and the person our mother went to, but he wasn’t, I was.
"I’m a master at containment. Excitement is what gets people killed round these parts."